2/17/14

Dudes, I'm as guilty as anyone else. Of making my Instagram look awesome but also of, ahem, fabricating a little of it. Act like you don't do it. Puh-lease.

Anyways, I thought it would be funny to share this. On the right is an Instagram of my 'lunch' the other day (I did eat it, eventually). And on the left is a picture from a Tweet. From my day job, showing how that lunch actually looked.

2/10/14

We were tipped off that Alison L. Grimes, Kentucky's Secretary of State and candidate for U.S. Senate, showed up to an event in Lexington wearing our Bluegrass shirt. So, if things pan out, we could be in a Capital Hill laundromat sometime in the future.

Now don't y'all get in a tizzy, this isn't a political post. This is an awesome post. Let a man have his moment, will ya? If Mitch McConnell wants to wear one of our shirts, well heck, I'll put him on here too. Get on it, staffers.

I do believe we made the right decision for our family and for our business and for some new opportunities that have presented themselves, but knowing how much we loved living in Boston, I'm still hit with pangs of doubt. Marianna misses it. I miss it. But like everything else in life, there are seasons. That was a great one. In which we got married. Made lifelong friends. Shoveled snow together and fought through challenges and started a business.

It was tough to leave. It is tough to be here. Each day that light grows dimmer. But it isn't, and hopefully won't be, ever snuffed out.

I've prayed about it and am trusting that this place is where we should be to raise our kid. I see this picture here, of my wife and of our little house in the North, far away from family, and think fondly of our time together as just the two of us. Of us being happy. Of dinner with our couple friends. But that isn't where we are now. We're three. And we're here. Closer to family yet without the friends we'd spent years getting to know. It's hard.

2/3/14

We're having a baby. Any day now. Maybe even today. (Dunno, I've got robots that publish these things, so if we actually are having a baby today, trust that I'm not live-blogging from the hospital.)

And in having a baby, I started thinking about being a young 'un, with four brothers under five (before my younger sister came along), and a single mom who was trying to keep the whole house running.

Which is how I came to Ritual. A celebration of the same thing, every night, week in and week out. A way to raise boys who get under your skin while under your roof, but who move away and leave that old house empty. Boys who grow up to be men with kids of their own, who realize there was something special about that ritual that happened every night. Winter or summer, the lights went out even if the sun didn't.